


Pull My Hair

by calmlikesurrender



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, M/M, Rimming, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmlikesurrender/pseuds/calmlikesurrender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because everyone's seen this gif, right? http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4vnduBLhB1rn292i.gif</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull My Hair

The first time Liam notices, they’re taking a shower. Together because when Liam had protested, Harry had only tugged him in, boxers and all.

            But he honestly doesn’t mind. Especially when Harry hands him the soap and just fucking turns around, giving Liam the perfect view of the raw red scratches down his skin from his shoulders to his hips, of the bruises just starting to form in the dips of his lower back. He has to bite his lip not to groan.

            “Harry?”

            He turns his head a little, and Liam just takes it, leans in and kisses him, drops the soap and puts his hands on Harry’s hips. Then he finally turns all the way, his tongue slips into Liam’s mouth, water coursing down the smooth planes of their chests.

            Liam kisses Harry’s neck and he’s holding him, gripping his shoulders. But then he touches his lips to Harry’s ear and he starts to shiver. He slips his hand into Harry’s hair and- Liam’s getting hard, it’s the scorching water and Harry’s lips and hearing Harry hiss every time Liam’s hands pause too long on a bruise from last night- but Harry’s fucking throbbing.

            He’s grinding into Liam, achingly hard. It’s a bit of a confidence boost, really, but he still doesn’t understand because they’ve done this before. With the water and the slick skin from soap and shampoo and the kissing and the bites and the old scars, so Liam doesn’t get it.

            But his hand is in Harry’s hair and he moves up, running his fingers through his scalp, stopping at the back of his head to twine them into the curls and he  _pulls._

Harry moans and holds onto his hips hard like he’ll fall otherwise. And the moan that slips from Harry’s parted lips is the filthiest thing Liam’s ever heard. He’s so surprised, he pulls away a little. But then Harry yanks him back, his own hand over Liam’s in his hair. He looks at Liam just as his hand slips away.

“Don’t stop.” So he doesn’t.

They kiss until Harry’s groaning so loud, breathing so ragged, that all they can manage is pressing their lips close, sinking into some frantic rhythm as their cocks grind together under the steady stream of hot water. And Liam’s hands fist into Harry’s curls in the back of his head. He teases him with a gentle tug, then harder and harder, trying to see how much Harry’s into this, how much he wants.

It only takes a second for Harry’s body to go limp and he’s coming all across his stomach, his mouth wide in a silent cry, eyes squeezed shut.

—

            They’re only a few weeks into it when Louis begins to notice. Subtly because they’re not even really sure how to handle it themselves.

            It’s no surprise he’s had his eyes on Harry from the beginning. Maybe not in as dirty a way as he does now, but he’s always been interested. And Liam was never bad looking. So when they told the boys they were together- “Officially, swear. We’re not dicking with you”- it would have taken a stronger man than Louis not to at least ruminate on how hot it would be to watch them in action. Or like, get _in_  on the action, but he’s not picky. He can live with ridiculously vivid day dreams.

            They’re on the carpet one day though, doing press for something Louis couldn’t give two shits about to be honest. He’s distracted. Mainly because between watching Liam with his easy smile and Harry’s stupid chest in that stupid shirt and that stupid blazer… well, it’d be a bit much to ask anyone to stay focused under those conditions.

            So he’s in the perfect position to notice when it happens. Standing there with someone asking them some surely asinine question, he’s just by Harry with Liam on the other side. Then Harry makes this  _face_.

            Louis catches the tail end of a moan, brief, under Harry’s breath as his eyes roll back and he tries to regain something like composure. But it’s pretty obvious he’s turned on. And with Liam’s arm up, it’s pretty obvious it’s Liam’s hands in his air getting him all bothered.

            Which shouldn’t make Louis’ stomach twist, right?

            And certainly shouldn’t give him the filthiest thoughts. Just ridiculously filthy.

            When he gets back to his flat and can have a little alone time, he manages about ten seconds in the shower before he slips his hand around himself.

            He’s usually more extravagant than a casual wank in the bathroom- he’s more of a candles, and oil, and slow build-up kind of guy. Embarrassingly enough, he usually plans his nights around it. Low light, drink close by. Once Harry had jokingly asked if his pussy really needed that much foreplay, but whatever. It’s now and he’s wet and kind of ill with himself- his hand tight around his cock and the memory of Harry’s face just  _then_ , and Liam’s big hands and well, it’s no surprise when he gets in only a few pumps more before he’s bracing himself on the wall and trying to breathe through that fuzzy familiar rush sweeping up from his toes to the roots of his hair.

            His hair…

            Then he’s there again, wondering how sensitive Harry must be. To get like that from just a touch.

He squeezes more shower gel onto his palm and manages another few minutes. It’s the last thought- just a vivid image of Harry on his knees, Liam pressed up behind him with his hands inching closer to Harry’s curls- that sends him trembling into another climax.

—

            After that, Liam and Harry’s public touches seem to become more frequent. Or maybe he just knows what to look for now.

            Whatever the case, Louis finds the two making frequent appearances in his thoughts. It only gets worse when he stumbles in on them on accident one day when they can’t seem to wait the two seconds it would take to close a door. He digs that memory up often- Harry on the bed, a writhing mess with Liam straddling his legs and slathering his chest in sloppy kisses. That, in and of itself, should make him want to stop, but it doesn’t. If anything, it just adds to his twisted obsession. He wants to be there.

—

            “Like really there?”

            Liam eyes Harry like he’s grown a third eye.

            “Yeah, it wouldn’t be that weird,” he says, situating himself more in Liam’s lap, waiting for the movie to start like everything’s normal. Like he hasn’t just suggested something moderately insane.

            Liam wraps his arms around him, and kisses his cheek. He’s been with Harry long enough to know that he has nothing to worry about cheating-wise. But that still doesn’t quell the envy.

            Because it’s not some random guy, it’s Louis. Harry could have just as easily asked for Niall or Zayn, but he didn’t.

            “I don’t want to share you,” he whispers, and it’s the sort of thing he usually doesn’t manage until he’s a little tipsy, so Harry stills him with kisses. And later that night when Liam just nods, “Yeah, okay. It’s okay,” Harry holds him so close he thinks he might break him. And he rattles off everything he loves about him- everything he’s ever loved about him- with stars in his eyes and that lopsided grin that always makes Liam dizzy.

—

It’s more than just the feeling. It’s the build-up before.

Harry likes it when Liam’s hands will go limp on his hips, and Liam will watch him just waiting- for Harry to lose it. They both know he’s close. He has to struggle to catch his breath as Liam’s hands coast up his pelvis, twining through the thin trail of hair beneath his belly button. Then his chest, his thumb stopping at his nipple, tweaking it a bit, teasing, asking.

            Harry groans, but lifts up to kiss him, knowing it’s what he wants.

            He’s frustrated and hot and grinding up to meet Liam’s hips, but he needs  _more_ , desperately.

            Then Liam’s hands are around his neck, a gentle grip, and his eyes roll back. Liam just holds him for a while, trailing open-mouthed kisses across his jaw, then under and lower and licking Harry’s collar bone. But it’s still not enough. Usually, he’ll draw this out as long as he can. He’ll let Liam touch every inch of his body before, but he can feel Louis’ eyes on him, and it’s doing the exact opposite of what it should be. He’s not nervous or anxious. It’s worse. Like having someone there, a witness to this tiny part of their life they actually get to keep private, just turns him on even more.

            “Liam,” he moans. He doesn’t have to say more than that.

            Liam watches him with the slightest smile because he knows how much Harry wants this. But it’s both of theirs really. Somehow it became Liam’s as much as his, and Harry’s hands are on his lower back, his nails burning into his skin, so he knows he’s close.

            But he won’t let him have it. Not yet.

            And Harry knows he has to say it, so he does. His eyes slip shut and he holds onto Liam so tight because he knows once it’s finally there, he’ll lose control.

            “Please, ungh. Liam, please,” he groans, choking when Liam’s hands start to trail up to his ear, when he feels his fingers just at his roots, shooting electricity down his spine, “Pull my hair.”

            Before Liam can even get there, he hears the soft rustle of sheets and then Louis’ voice.

            “Make him turn around.”

            Liam eyes the corner of the bed where Louis is sitting with his legs stretched out, slowly stroking himself through his jeans, his dick so obviously hard already just from watching.

            Harry moans out a breathless response, waiting for Liam to move so he can readjust. Liam leans down to whisper into his ear, though.

           “Don’t you want to show him, though?” he says slowly, watching Louis, his eyes dark and eager, “This is yours. Show him how you usually like it.”

            Louis’ breath catches and he scrambles to unzip his jeans because he can’t wait any longer. For friction and to see Liam finally do something more than talk because he had no idea he was that  _hot_. He’s Liam after all. He’s basically a grandpa.

            Except right now with his lips pressed to the side of Harry’s face and his voice ten times deeper than Louis’ ever heard it and the fact that he’s massive? It’s sort of a killer combination, and he moans when he’s finally tugged his jeans down to his ankles and has his dick in his hand. Then again when Liam kisses Harry and ruts against him, “Show him how you beg me for it, babe.”

            Harry groans then, and his face twists up- this fucked out mix of pain and pleasure- that Louis thinks he must have come from just that.

            Liam runs his hand down his chest and tugs on his cock like he’s not sure himself either. Harry’s still hard, though. His hips buck up into Liam’s grip and he squeezes his eyes shut.

            “Go on,” Liam says, “Show him.”      

            Then he’s moving so Harry can readjust. Except instead of turning over onto his stomach like Louis had thought, Harry eases over the side of the bed so his chest is still flat on the covers, but his ass- and Louis makes a rather unflattering noise just thinking about it- is right in the air. Liam moves behind him and presses close, rolling his hips, just giving Harry friction. Teasing him with the tip of his cock before pulling back and kissing the back of his neck, the dimples above his ass. He even drops to his knees and Louis can’t see, but there’s the unmistakable wet sound of him lapping slowly at Harry’s hole. Which seems to send Harry into something like a fit.

            He reels forward as his eyes roll back, moans out, reaching for Louis’ hand or arm or leg or  _something_.

            In which case something turns out to be his cock, slid between Harry’s lips and he moans around him each time Liam must do something particularly spectacular with his tongue. Whatever it is, he feels the vibrations in Harry’s throat and he lets Harry get two more deep sucks before he runs his fingers across the strong line of his jaw, over his cheek.

            Harry looks up at him with his wide eyes pleading, and Louis ghosts over his ear, down the back of his neck. So close, but not quite enough. And he’s surprised at how much he wants this, too. Just watching the anticipation on Harry’s face, how close he is with Louis’ fingers skimming his scalp.

            He finally gives in, going straight back and managing a handful of the loose curls then yanking up roughly.

            Which must all be too much, with Liam down there working his magic, and Louis’ hands on that sensitive area- Harry practically takes Louis’ dick off.

            He jerks back when he feels Harry’s jaw tighten and then the harsh jab of teeth- a blow job’s worst nightmare.

            Okay, maybe not exactly all that intense, he gets just a light snip, but it’s enough that he sort of jumps back a little. Harry cries out something incoherent and Liam manages an apology, but it’s pretty hard to take him seriously when he has a cruel smirk like he’s completely proud of himself.

            Harry apologizes too, then. Even kisses his way around Louis’ inner thighs until Louis’ fighting not to giggle. Then it’s impossible for Harry not to laugh, too. It’s always like that with the two of them.

            And then it hits Liam right then just how awkward it is- to be kneeling behind Harry, all three of them naked and… laughing. They’re all shaking, laughing so hard they have tears in their eyes after a while.      

—

Which is all fine, until they finally stop and there’s still the matter of hard-ons. Louis, for one, isn’t too keen on having his cock nommed off by an over-fucked Harry, so he takes to just jerking himself on the bed. When Liam starts to do the same, Harry swats his hand away. He grabs him and pulls him up to stand. Then drops rather abruptly to his knees, and pulls Liam’s cock between his lips, sucking him off while he pumps himself at the same time.

Louis comes first.

For obvious reasons.

Then Liam moans something deep and his eyes roll back. Harry sucks him through it, lapping unashamedly afterwards until he’s coming as well.

Then they somehow all end up tangled in each other on the sheets. Liam lies back and lets Harry kiss him lazily. Mainly because he knows it’s Harry saying thank you. Partly because he likes that he can taste himself on his lips, plump and bruised and raw.

It goes on for a while and Louis starts to feel a bit out of place. Like he’s invading their privacy in a way that being there before hadn’t felt like.

Liam must feel the same way because he reaches out for him and holds his hand, dragging that idiotic grin out of Harry that just makes him kiss him harder.

“I love you,” he mumbles into his lips.

“I love you, too.”

Then there’s a brief moment where Louis wants to leave again because he’s not sure he could blush any harder.

But Harry looks at him with so much tenderness.

“I love you, too, you know,” he says, then turns back to Liam like he’s afraid it’s too much.

Liam just shakes his head and can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, squeezing Louis’ fingers tighter, “What he said.”

And because he’s shit with words, Louis just shrugs and smoothes down his fringe, “This was good for me. We should do it again sometime.”

And it’s really more of a joke than anything else, but Liam nods, all business.

“Yeah,” he says, watching Harry with this look that Louis can’t read.

Harry nods too then.

Then he’s all smiles, this beautiful trade that makes Louis want to kiss him. Which would definitely be too much.

            So he opts for something just as deep without being invading.

            “Why do you like it so much?” he says matter-of-fact.

            No need to elaborate really. He can see on his face that Harry gets it. He shifts uncomfortably in Liam’s arms.

            “I don’t know, I just- like  _do_ ,” he says, “You don’t have anything weird you’re into?”

            Louis barks out a dry laugh.

            “I don’t know. Sometimes I like to have threesomes with my best friends.”

            Harry only narrows his eyes a little, though.

            “No, I’m serious.”

            Louis only shrugs. Prior to about an hour ago, the highlight of his sexual exploration had been a game of gay chicken with Zayn.

            Liam smiles then and pulls Harry closer.

          “I think I know what it is,” he says seeming completely serious, rubbing his back, “I think you’re just a pervert.”

            Harry’s eyes go wide then and he leans into Liam with a mischievous look and Louis only catches the beginning, but it’s more than enough, “You’re one to talk. I’ll never let you live down the little lipsti-”.

—

            It’s sort of awkward after they’re all cleaned up and dressed. Like without the clothes, it was just sex. Now, though, after? They all fidget and avoid each other’s eyes, blushing whenever their skin touches briefly.

            It takes Harry making a joke about the other guys finding out that finally clears the tension a little. Liam voices it, though. Mainly because he knows Harry wants to, but won’t unless Liam says it’s okay. And it is, he realizes with this odd finality. He’s completely okay with it.

            “Let’s do this again,” he says, more to Louis than Harry really.

            He expects him to maybe laugh, make a joke, shake his head. He surprises them both by taking Harry’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

            “Yeah,” Louis says, and that’s all. He grabs his coat and things and heads out for his own place just like that.

            Except it’s not like before because Liam feels amazing. And he doesn’t have to look at Harry to know that he’s wearing that moronic smirk, full on from ear to ear. So this is new.

            Really new.

            But there are worse things. And it was so easy. So that means it’s… right.

            Right?

            Whatever.

            He drags Harry back to bed and they strip the soiled sheets, then lie down on the bare mattress and neither says a word because what would they say anyway?

            Instead, Liam lets Harry play in his hair and Harry doesn’t pull away when Liam strokes down the sides of his chest, dragging his fingers over each of his nipples. It’s this unspoken agreement to have no lines, and they know each other well enough to make it count.

            But Harry still shivers when Liam’s lips touch his, and his spine goes taut and he feels weightless and flimsy, weak and out of breath, when Liam’s fingers trail over his ear then just barely his scalp because nothing’s really changed. He can’t make anything more coherent than a whimper, gasping at the fiery flashes of his touch, trying to pull away. But like more. He needs more, too.  And Liam knows every inch of his skin, how many times his chest rises and falls before he’ll lose it.

            He leans into him, presses his lips to his ear and gets his fingers just close enough to make Harry feel like he can’t breathe.

            “Are you gonna say it for me?” he asks grinding down to meet his hips with a touch so bare it can’t be anything but teasing.

            And Harry’s too gone to even drag it out.

            He grips Liam’s hips and his voice is so raw, ready to break.

            “Please,” he gasps, fighting back tears, “Please pull my hair.”


End file.
